Can't you see all that you've done for me
by schizophrenic-susurrus
Summary: Yuuta comes to terms with certain things and makes Mizuki reevaluate certain decisions. Set after Yuuta finds out about the complications the Twist Spin Shot can cause.


Mizuki has been acting strange lately. Ever since they'd had their asses handed to them by Seigaku, he hasn't turned up at practice. He hasn't even turned up for Yuuta's extra training in the evenings, something he only does because he always follows Mizuki's instructions to the letter. When Yuuta bumps into Mizuki around the school buildings or the dorm, he looks through him like he is invisible and Yuuta hates it.

He sighs, then jumps when a hand lands familiarly on his shoulder, a finger poking into his cheek when he turns.

"Why so melancholic, Yuuta-kun?"

"Akazawa-buchou!" Yuuta greets hastily, a little flustered at being interrupted so suddenly. "Good afternoon."

Akazawa smiles, murmuring a greeting in return before asking, "Have you seen Mizuki?"

Yuuta shakes his head, confused. "No. I haven't exactly seen him these past couple of weeks, actually. What's the matter?"

"So he hasn't been coaching you in the evenings, either? He must be serious about this then," Akazawa mutters, scowling.

Worried, Yuuta frowns. "Buchou, I don't understand. Did something happen to Mizuki-san?" There's a part of him that questions why he still cares and exactly how much, which Yuuta impatiently quashes. The fact is that he does care, very much. He watches Akazawa reach into his uniform pocket and pull out a slightly crumpled envelope that he hands over to Yuuta, whose eyes grow impossibly round when he sees the writing on the cover.

"What is this?" he asks in a hoarse whisper.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Akazawa sighs. "Mizuki is resigning from the tennis club. I found this in my locker after lunch break."

You know how some people say that when you get bad news, it's like a tidal wave of feelings crashing over you? It leaves you emotionally drained, drenched in negativity you end up suffocating in. Not exactly true, Yuuta realizes. Mostly he just feels blank. And betrayed, but mostly blank.

"I... I don't understand. Why would he-?" He pulls back the flap of the envelope to remove the enclosed letter, eyes scanning over the familiar neat script. '... Ashamed ... Failed in my responsibilities ... Better for all involved ... Sincere apologies to the team.' Yuuta reads it again, and then a third time, feeling like this has to be a joke. Since when did Mizuki apologize for anything?

He startles when Akazawa plops down next to him, leaning back to rest against the sturdy trunk. "Yuuta, are you still angry at Mizuki?"

Surprised, Yuuta turns to look at the captain. He begins to reply but is interrupted by Akazawa, "Think about it seriously." Akazawa's expression is grave, and Yuuta looks away.

Worrying his fingers through the patch of grass at his feet, Yuuta considers Akazawa's question. Is he angry at Mizuki? The short answer is no. He was shocked and was just a tiny bit resentful when he had learned about the strain the Twist Spin Shot would put on his arm, but that was more because Mizuki hadn't trusted him with the information, rather than feeling like he was being used. So no, he was not, and still isn't, angry at Mizuki, but the hurt continues to bubble away in his chest.

"I'm not angry at Mizuki-san," Yuuta replies shortly.

"But?"

"But-" Yuuta hesitates before continuing, "I feel hurt that he didn't trust me enough to tell me, to let me decide for myself whether I should continue to use it."

And really, it was as simple as that. Yuuta isn't stupid and he's no longer a kid who needs protection no matter what aniki may be thinking in that warped head of his, and he's sick of all the coddling. He's not an idiot. He knows what the Twist Spin Shot can do to his shoulder now, and he's honestly terrified that he's done something irreversible to it, but he also knows that Mizuki spends extra time kneading long, delicate fingers into his sore muscles after each extra training session, meticulously probing and gauging the state of his racket arm. He's never understood the need for that before and had always tried pushing Mizuki's touch away to no avail without knowing why he's reduced to embarrassed bluster, but now it's crystal clear and damn it, all Yuuta wants to do right now is find Mizuki and confront him about the strange pinkish atmosphere filled with bubble hearts he always finds them in when they're alone together and maybe, just maybe Yuuta can push him against the wall or onto the floor and find out if Mizuki-san's lips are as soft as he's always imagined. They may even be able to do some of the things in the dogeared magazines Yuuta keeps in a shoebox under his bed. So this is what a revelation feels like, Yuuta thinks, no flash of lightning, no choir of angels or pinging light bulb. Clichés should really look into rewriting themselves.

Akazawa clears his throat, startling Yuuta from his introspection. "You okay? You look like you've got quite a bit on your mind."

Yuuta awkwardly scratches at the back of his head. "Ah, no. Just stray thoughts."

"You're also blushing." Akazawa grins, teasing, and laughs gleefully when the sophomore flushes a deeper shade of red and sits up abruptly, shifting to sit on the back of his calves.

"Buchou, please give me Mizuki-san's room number!" Yuuta bows, hands firm on his knees, shoulders hunched.

"Oi oi, why so formal all of a sudden? Room 218, Block D." Akazawa rises to his feet in a graceful motion, brushing off shards of grass and dirt clinging stubbornly to the dark brown slacks. "I'll see you at practice tomorrow, Yuuta-kun. I expect good news." He pats Yuuta on the back once before leaving with a casual wave.

Yuuta clenches the letter in a fist, the cogs in his head turning at a furious speed. He thinks he has this in a bag, but first he has a phone call to make.

.~.~.~.~.

Yuuta is half a breath away from knocking when he hesitates, staring at the copper digits shining dully in the dim hallway lights. It's only just sunk in that he's here, standing in front of Mizuki's room, and he's nervous. Aniki had not been forthcoming with encouragement as expected, but the Seigaku senior did advise him to just be honest with his feelings, whether positive or negative, and Mizuki will respond in like. He still thinks Yuuta mad for falling in love with the sadistic bastard, telling Yuuta so without mincing his words and Yuuta winces, recalling the frostiness evident in his brother's normally warm, smiling voice. In the end though, Shuusuke had come round and wished Yuuta luck, albeit reluctantly. Something in his tone tells Yuuta that aniki will not take kindly to him being rejected, and Yuuta prays he hasn't been reading too much into Mizuki's gestures.

Yuuta sighs, then raps three times on the wooden door lightning quick before he can change his mind. He hears approaching footsteps and braces himself.

The door opens to reveal a barefoot Mizuki in faded fraying cut-offs and a t-shirt a few sizes too large for him. It slides to the side to reveal a bare shoulder.

"Yuuta-kun. I guess Akazawa went to find you, after all." Mizuki sounds cool and distant, and Yuuta grasps for words.

"Err..."

A soft chuckle. "Well, come on in," he invites, stepping aside to let Yuuta brush past him. He indicates the bed. "Sit."

Yuuta obeys even as he mentally smacks himself for his unquestioning obedience. Mizuki is puttering around the electric hot plate in a corner of the room with his back towards Yuuta, who grabs the opportunity to look around. The room is mostly neat except for the study table, which is scattered with opened books and papers and the occasional pencil. Mizuki must have been studying before this. There is a cork board on the wall directly behind the table that has been pinned with an assortment of papers, as well as a faded photograph of a night-time river reflecting a full moon. He thinks he spies a training schedule for the club but he's not entirely sure. The room smells like a mixture of tea leaves and roses, a little cloying though altogether pleasant. Yuuta sniffs, rubbing at his nose surreptitiously.

"Here." A dedicate porcelain cup with rose gold piping complete with matching saucer appears in front of him, and Yuuta accepts it automatically. Weak wisps of steam rise from the hot liquid - tea, from the aroma. Yuuta takes a sip and promptly burns his tongue.

"Ack!" He coughs, panting.

Mizuki chuckles. "Idiot. It's very hot." His voice is colored with amusement and Yuuta scowls, petulant. He takes another - careful - sip and slides a glance at the senior. Mizuki is lounging against the study table, posture relaxed, looking like he doesn't have a care in the world. Yuuta knows better though. All the one-on-one time he's spent with Mizuki has taught him to read the slight hunch of his shoulders, the tightness around his mouth. Noticing Yuuta's perusal, Mizuki raises an arm to twirl a lock of fringe around his index finger. A quirk, Yuuta observes, but also a nervous habit. For the first time tonight, Yuuta feels almost confident. He looks Mizuki straight in the eye.

"Mizuki-san -"

"Yuuta-kun, I'm sorry."

Yuuta blinks, surprised both at the interruption and the apology.

Crossing his arms in a parody of hugging himself, Mizuki sighs. "I should have told you from the very beginning about the danger of using the Twist Spin Shot, shouldn't have taught it to you in the first place. But you were so happy when you managed to master it, and then you beat other people in matches using it... I- I got carried away. I'm sorry." Mizuki's head is bowed, his face averted from Yuuta in guilt.

"It's..." Yuuta swallows. It's not okay, not really, but... "It's not your fault." Mizuki's snort is disbelieving. "It's not. Even if I had known, I... I would have used it anyway if it meant even the slightest chance of beating aniki," Yuuta confessed. It was one of the things he had talked about over the phone with Shuusuke earlier, and it's true. Yuuta would have used it against his brother even knowing the risks. Shuusuke had been furious to hear it, to say the least.

"Besides," Yuuta takes a deep breath before plunging on, praying he hadn't been wrong, "Didn't you always check to see if I was overdoing it? I'm sure if there's even the slightest possibility of injury, you would have stopped me." Yuuta smiles. "I trust you, Mizuki-san."

Mizuki is staring at Yuuta, his expression a mix of bemusement and disbelief. He shakes his head. "You're unbelievable," he complains, but there is a hint of relief in his voice.

"Thank you," Mizuki says softly. "For trusting me," he adds.

Yuuta shrugs. "Your plans for the club goes longer than a match or two, I'm sure. Which reminds me." His teacup wobbles on the saucer as he reaches into his jacket pocket for the letter, catching Mizuki's threatening glare with a sheepish grin.

"Break my cup and you're dead."

"Sorry, sorry. But this," Yuuta brandishes the letter and holds it out to Mizuki. "Take this back. Akazawa won't accept it, neither will I."

"No. The team is not going to trust me anymore after this. You're better off without me."

"Weren't you listening? I said I trust you. Akazawa trusts you, and I'm sure the rest of the team does, too. You've done a lot for us, Mizuki-san, and we're not going to forget it all in a hurry."

"But your arm-"

Yuuta rolls his eyes in exasperation. "My arm is fine!" he exclaims. "And anyway, you owe me." Yuuta hates the hunted look in Mizuki's eyes but it's time to pull out his trump card.

"I said I was sorry," Mizuki says harshly.

"It's not about my arm. My brother. You promised me you'll make me stronger so I can defeat aniki one day. Are you going to back out of it? Are you going to run away?"

"I-"

"Also, for the past week I've been training without someone to spot me. Who knows what I've done to my arm in that time. I mean, some of the techniques I may or may not have used..." He trails off nonchalantly, chancing a glance at Mizuki. The senior is furious.

"Yuuta, if you have been using the Twist Spin Shot after the match you better tell me right now," Mizuki warns, angry and not just a little worried.

Yuuta lets him stew for a few beats before he relents. "No. I haven't hit it, but I have been researching and thinking about it. I think there is a way for me to hit it without risking damage to my arm and shoulder, but I can't seem to figure it out. I need you, Mizuki-san." The bed dips as Mizuki settles himself next to Yuuta. "Please, don't quit," Yuuta pleads, earnest.

His tea is taken from him and set aside, then hands are on his shoulders pushing his jacket down and sliding it off his arms. Yuuta has no time to feel underdressed in his thin t-shirt before cool fingers land on his left arm, kneading and pressing at the muscles and joints from shoulder to wrist.

"You haven't been stupid enough to try the Shot again, but you haven't been stretching properly either, have you." Mizuki's tone was gently chiding, head bent in concentration. Yuuta feels his pulse pound, his palms beginning to sweat. Mizuki's thigh is firm against his, knobby knee pushing into his calf. From this distance, he can smell Mizuki's shampoo, a tropical coconut scent mixed with fresh sweat. His throat feels dry and he clears it once.

He does it another time for good measure. "Mizuki-san..."

"Hmm?" The head lifts and their eyes meet. Mizuki's eyes are half-lidded and from this distance Yuuta sees tiny reflections of himself in them. He forces himself to look away in a hurry.

"N- Nothing." Yuuta mutters. He chances another glance at the senior before making up his mind.

"Please don't hit me," he whispers. Then Yuuta kisses him.

Slightly parted, Mizuki's lips are soft and pliant, tasting like tea, and Yuuta feels like he's drowning in sensation. The hands on his arm clench reflexively when Yuuta leans forward to increase the forcefulness of the kiss. Mizuki lets out a startled moan, arms flying up to Yuuta's shoulders for balance. Yuuta is exhilarated, the blood rushing through his veins fueling his enthusiasm. He wraps an arm around Mizuki's waist, the other hand reaching up to gently cup his neck. Mizuki is making soft, breathy noises and Yuuta feels a surge of possessiveness for this Mizuki-san, who walks around barefoot and dresses in overlarge t-shirts looking like a defenseless woodland animal and smelling like coconuts and tea.

Too soon, their mouths part with a wet pop. Yuuta wraps his arms around Mizuki in a protective hug, burying his face in the side of the graceful neck, breathing him in and silently memorizing the rhythm of his pulse.

"Yuuta?" Mizuki sounds hesitant and unsure and Yuuta tightens his embrace.

"Can we stay like this a little longer? Just a little." His heart is beating so fast he's sure Mizuki can hear it. He closes his eyes.

"You..."

Bracing himself for rejection, Yuuta stiffens, but then he feels long, delicate fingers gently carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. Can he take this as a good sign? He'll take this as a good sign, he convinces himself. Yeah. If he absolutely has to regret this, he'll do it later.


End file.
